


Less Scary

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2017 [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Kiss, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Pining, Psychological Trauma, Psychopaths In Love, Psychosis, Slightly - Freeform, Trauma, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: Oswald wants to be there to support Edward when he goes to end things with Isabella himself. It changes everything.





	Less Scary

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this conversation with a couple people about what would have happened if Oswald had witnessed Isabella's behavior the night he had her killed. This is that story... with the added bonus of Isabella being more than she seems.

Sometime between his conversation with Isabella and now, that blonde little idiot had managed to pass a note to Edward, no doubt expounding on her love for him… blah blah blah. It leaves Oswald in the precarious and endlessly frustrating role of informing Edward of her position on their relationship. She just couldn’t let it go, could she?

Now Edward is leaving yet again, to try and end things with her himself. He fears that he’s going to somehow hurt her, and a part of Oswald hopes he does. It would save him the trouble. A larger part of him fears that she’s going to be able to draw him in with her… feminine wiles or what have you and force Oswald into the position of eliminating her himself. He has a plan in mind, should it come to that, but he’d rather Edward have proper closure from the little harlot before he makes his own move.

If Edward is successful and able to end things, the better for Oswald. If Edward kills her, it might take a little something extra to remind Edward that Oswald is virtually invulnerable, but he can make it work. Killing her will drag this out the longest, but he’s certainly not opposed to the idea. Edward is nearly out of the door when Oswald decides on an excellent method for ensuring that Edward will at least refrain from spending the night.

“Here, let me at least go with you.” Edward pauses in the doorway, turning to look back at him. “I clearly didn’t do a proper job of it, and I’m sorry I led you to believe you could rely on me to do this for you. The truth is, I’ve never had to break up with someone before. Let alone on the behalf of someone else.”

Edward shakes his head and comes back into the room, saying, “The fault is all mine, Oswald. I should have behaved like an adult and done it myself. I’m just— I’m so frightened I might hurt her.”

“I’ll wait in the car for you,” Oswald says. “If I hear something, or you’re taking a long time, I’ll be there for you, alright?” Edward swallows and nods.

“Thank you, Oswald. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“My dear Edward,” Oswald drawls, taking hold of his biceps, “You can always count on me.”

***

Oswald is happy with his plan. Even if Isabella manages to seduce him, Edward’s sense of propriety will likely cause him to disengage out of deference to Oswald, patiently waiting in the car. Of course, Oswald doesn’t wait patiently. There are many windows to Isabella’s apartment, and he winds up standing on a box outside of one of them and peering inside the moment Edward is through the door.

Edward is standing in the main room, speaking to no one. He’s not shouting, or Oswald would be able to hear him. Oswald watches a door swing open, and from within emerges Isabella.

Yet, not quite. She’s colored her hair, and it’s in a ponytail. She’s wearing glasses, and a more bookish style of dress than even her usual. Suddenly, it hits him.

 _That bitch_.

She’s dressed up as Edward’s first girlfriend, the one he’d killed. The very reason Edward is afraid of being with her. Oswald can already tell he’s going to have a long night of comforting Edward through this trauma. Of course, it might only serve to bring them closer together. Edward turns and flees, but Isabella gives chase, pushing him back into the room where Oswald can see him again. Oswald wants to intervene now, having seen quite enough, but perhaps Edward will retaliate in some way. He gives it another moment.

Then Isabella slaps him across the face, and Oswald sees red. He storms inside, pushing between them and breaking the hold she has on Edward’s wrists. Oswald faces her, keeping Edward behind him.

He doesn’t look back as he calmly instructs, “Edward, get in the car.” Oswald hears Edward leaving, even as Isabella calls after him.

“I am forcing you to face your fear! Come back! _Edward!_ ”

“He is never coming back,” Oswald growls. “I’m going to have him file a restraining order against you if you ever so much as _breathe_ in his direction again. And if you ever, _ever_ put your hands on him again, I will kill you _myself_.” Oswald turns on his heel and leaves without giving her the opportunity to speak, slamming the door shut behind him. Edward is sitting on the passenger side, shaking uncontrollably. He had obviously determined he was unfit to drive. Oswald sits in the driver’s seat and hugs him fiercely, forcing himself not to linger, since Isabella might just be enough of a psycho to throw herself in front of the car to keep them from leaving.

He starts the car and peels out, reaching across the seat and touching Edward’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Edward has been staring steadfastly into the middle distance, and he hasn’t made a peep.

“Edward—”

“I’m okay,” Edward whispers. Oswald doesn’t believe him. He drives a little faster, and they make excellent time in the evening traffic. Oswald follows Edward through the front door, then takes his arm and leads him to the couch.

“Just... wait here,” Oswald says. He needs a minute to find the words. Oswald heads to the kitchen and makes a cup of tea for Edward, thinking over what he should say. What would comfort Ed to know in this moment? He heads back out and hands Edward the tea, who takes it with shaking hands.

“Thank you,” Edward says.

“Are you going see her again?” Oswald asks as Edward blows over the lip of the cup.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the wrong answer,” Oswald says.

“I love her, Oswald, and she—”

“She doesn’t love you. And I don’t think you love her either.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Edward says, putting the tea back on the table.

“Because I don’t think it’s safe for you to go back to her, and hearing that you might scares the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t say I might—”

“You said you didn’t know, which is basically the same thing. Edward, she just dressed up as Miss Kringle to try and manipulate you into staying with her. She’d rather emotionally and psychologically torment you than let you go.”

“It wasn’t like that, she thought she was helping me,” Edward explains, voice hollow.

“A fat load of good that did,” Oswald scoffs. “Look at you, Edward. What if you had hurt her trying to get away, what then? What good would that have done?”

“She didn’t think I would hurt her, she was trying to prove that. And I didn’t,” Edward says.

“Was she trying to put your hands on her neck when I came in?” Edward swallows. “Look, maybe you wouldn’t have hurt her, maybe you would have put your hands on her neck and squeezed and she would have been fine. But that doesn’t excuse what she did. She’s a librarian, not a therapist. She decided to force you to relive one of your worst traumas without your consent, because she determined that her love for you was more important than your comfort and respecting your choice. Do you get it now, Edward?”

“I still love her,” Edward says.

“I don’t think you do. I think she’s just your type, and you want to believe that this is your second chance to be with the one, right?” Edward hesitates, then reluctantly nods.

“What is it she likes about you, Ed?”

“She likes wordplay, and Shakespeare…”

“Ed, that’s not you.”

“She… she found the fact that I’m a killer… exciting.” Oswald inhales sharply through his nose.

“You shacked up with a— a version of your previous girlfriend who happens to have… hybristophilia? No offense, Edward, but being a killer is the least exciting thing about you, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What do you mean?” Edward asks, turning to face him on the couch and scanning his face for some measure of insult.

“Edward, your first kill wasn’t selfless, but it wasn’t selfish, either. It wasn’t entirely self-defense, but you didn’t leave that night intending to kill Tom Dougherty or I’m sure you would have had a better plan for the aftermath. Killing Kristen was an accident, an accident after which you decided that you were a killer and that this was your path in life. It didn’t have to be.”

“I couldn’t go back,” Edward says. “It changed me, the self I had always wanted to be was finally content to be the that self I am.”

“I don’t think you wanted to be a killer. I think you wanted to be in control of yourself. I think you wanted power and respect, and to be liked and admired. Who doesn’t? The difference between us and the other people who want those things is that we would kill to get it. That’s all,” Oswald says.

“It’s really that simple for you?” Edward asks. Oswald takes his hands.

“Edward, I know plenty of killers. Being a killer is not what makes you special. Do you know what I see when I look at these hands?” Edward shakes his head. “I’ll tell you. I see you, playing piano for me. I see clever fingers solving puzzles that have stumped countless others. I see origami penguins folded with precision. I don’t see the hands of a killer, because that’s not why you’re important to me. You deserve people who care about _you_ , Edward. Not what you’ve done.” Edward doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. After a while, Oswald is convinced he’s made him catatonic.

“Ed? This is a bit scary.”

“Less scary. Check,” Edward mumbles.

“No, you’re not— Ed. Say something,” Oswald pleads, squeezing his fingers.

“You’ve never been afraid of me?” Edward asks.

“Why would I be afraid of you? I’ve killed _far_ more people than you have, and for less. I’ve been through so many trials, and I always come back. There was a tabloid the other day speculating I might be immortal, for heavens sake.” This gets a smile out of Edward, and Oswald is pleased. 

“I’ll be honest, the most frightened I’ve ever been of you was when you administered that sedative in your apartment. Which was silly of me, because if I hadn’t been so disoriented I would have known there was no reason to be afraid, and you wouldn’t’ve needed to in the first place,” Oswald speculates, playing idly with Edward’s fingers.

“What astonishes me,” Oswald continues, looking down at those long fingers, “is that I don’t think you’ve ever been afraid of _me_.”

“Oh, if you’re talking about both times you nearly killed me, trust me, I was frightened,” Edward laughs.

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Oswald says. “It would have been the second worst mistake I ever made.” Edward stops laughing. He looks down at their hands and holds Oswald’s a bit tighter.

“I’m glad I could count on you,” Edward says. “I won’t be seeing Isabella again. What you just said… it’s brought some things to my attention I hadn’t considered.”

“That’s what I’m here for. You might be a genius, but I don’t think you know a thing about love.”

“I know plenty!” Edward protests. “Love is about sacrifice. It’s about putting someone else’s happiness above your own.”

“Is that why you’re not seeing Isabella again?” Edward quiets, then responds.

“You were right, Oswald. She was willing to risk traumatizing me again on an amateur hunch that poorly executed exposure therapy would help me overcome my fears, all so I would stay with her. I don’t know if she did it for me, or for herself, but she wasn’t thinking about what was best for me. If she had she wouldn’t have done something so drastic and… desperate. Rushed. It’s not like we didn’t have time to work through this.”

Oswald wonders if his plan to kill Isabella was about Edward’s happiness or his own. To be fair, he hadn’t known how batshit crazy she was until tonight. Perhaps it would have been more selfish of him than for Edward’s benefit, but that doesn’t matter now. Now he has a legitimate reason to keep them apart, and he can take his time before he tells Edward how he feels.

“Well, you’ve had a rough night. I say we turn in.” Edward nods in agreement, and they both rise to head their separate ways for the night. Edward falls into him, folding himself over Oswald’s shoulder for a hug.

“Good night, Oswald. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ed. Good night.” Oswald lets him go, but not for long.

***

Edward and Oswald spend the next day at the opening of a preschool for underprivileged children. The advantage this would give working parents in the area by no longer requiring that one parent stay at home or that they hire a sitter for their children would make a huge difference in their lives and hopefully allow them to rise above the poverty level. Edward is careful not to step on any children; it wouldn’t look good. Oswald smiles benevolently and chats up some of the teachers, who flatter him gratuitously. Edward’s phone rings. It’s Isabella, for what must be the fiftieth time since last night. Oswald shoots him a look and he excuses himself to finally take the call, heading around the building and away from the noise of the festivities.

“Edward.” He whips around to see her emerging from an alcove between the two buildings.

“What are you doing here?” Edward asks, swallowing hard.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” she says, her gait slow and smooth as she approaches.

“I meant that you’re supposed to be at your conference,” Edward says, taking a step back. She stands still in response.

“I couldn’t leave things the way they were,” she says, her voice so soothing and saccharine. “I love you, Edward.”

“Why?” he asks, the concept suddenly foreign to him. How could she? Isabella moves forward quickly, taking him by surprise. He raises his hands between them and she seizes his wrists, quickly bringing his hands to her throat.

“Would I trust you not to hurt me if I didn’t love you?” she reasons. “You won’t hurt me, Edward, do it. Do it!” His whole body is trembling. She looks just like Kristen. For a moment, he’s so addled that she _is_ Kristen, and his hands are barely even squeezing her neck when she gasps.

“Ed-ward—“ He rips his hands from her throat, stumbling away until his back hits the wall.

“You see?” she says, following him. He needs to breathe, there’s nowhere to go. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I already knew I wouldn’t,” Edward says, refusing to look at her. “Why are you doing this again?”

“To prove it to you!” Isabella declares. She’s in front of him again, in his space, in his air.

“I didn’t want you to,” Edward says. “If you’d have asked me, you would have already known that I’ve determined I won’t hurt you. I don’t appreciate what you just did.”

“I’m trying to help you see that we can be together, Edward.” He takes in a shaky breath, trying to calm his heart rate.

“We can’t be together if you keep deciding what’s best for me without _asking_ _me_ ,” Edward says. “I need to go back to the opening.”

“Back to the Mayor?” Isabella scoffs. “It’s so obvious what he’s doing, Edward. He’s trying to keep us apart!”

“He’s trying to keep us apart because last night he saw you dress up as Kristen and hit me! I think you can see why he might be concerned,” Edward fires back. Isabella sighs.

“If you haven’t seen it yourself by now, I suppose you never will. Fine, I’ll say it. The Mayor is in love with you, and that’s why he’s trying so hard to convince you that I’m not good for you.” Edward gapes.

“That is ridiculous,” Edward manages. “Oswald is not in love with me.”

“What makes you so sure?” Isabella demands.

“I… he— he’s not interested in that kind of thing,” Edward says. Oswald had never been interested in anyone, as far as he’s aware. Isabella has no idea, but Edward had _tried_ to garner that kind of interest. He’d tried to do what worked with Kristen, performing an act of heroism on Oswald’s behalf. Getting attacked by Butch was actually something of a bonus he hadn’t expected. He’d thought for sure that Oswald would make a move after that, but he’d been wrong.

“Oh, he’s interested. He’s interested in you, Edward. Don’t believe me? Find out for yourself. I’ll be waiting.” She departs down the alley, leaving Edward to put himself back together. How could he possibly find out if Oswald loves him? He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself from the encounter and not look too ruffled. Edward heads back to the group, nodding at Oswald when he catches his eye. Oswald immediately hustles over.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. Clearly Edward looked less together than he thought.

“I just spoke with Isabella,” he says. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“Do you want to go home?” Oswald asks, his hands coming up to hold Edward’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Edward says, touched by his concern. Yet for the first time, he is also suspicious of it. He switches into business mode, unwilling to dwell on this for too long. “Let’s get some photos of you and the teachers.”

Oswald looks a little lost at this, like there’s something more he’d like to say or do, but he complies. Edward uses the opportunity to form a plan.

***

“And have we made any headway on the waterfront negotiations?” Oswald asks, straightening papers.

“I have spoken with the union leader,” Edward answers. “He agreed to our offer. So those photos can go back in the vault.”

“They were quite saucy, weren't they?” Oswald laughs. “And how about the—”

“Your approval for the new casino should come through tomorrow. Demolition can begin right away,” Edward responds, practically reading his mind.

“You’ve done marvelously,” Oswald compliments him. “I was worried that something Isabella said might have upset you.” Edward gives him a tight-lipped smile and passes him a piece of paper.

“Just one last signature,” Edward says, keeping his tone in check.

“This is your resignation,” Oswald says, staring up at him with alarm.

“What happened with Isabella… I need to figure out a way to move forward. I can't continue—”

“No!” Oswald interrupts, launching to his feet. “Ed, I will not let you leave.” Edward is startled at this, that Oswald would even presume it’s up to him to _allow_ Edward to leave. He files that troubling information away for later.

“It is not in your best interest,” Oswald amends, likely picking up on Edward’s expression and how his statement might sound. “You have to stay busy.”

“How can I say this? Um... We're friends. Aren't we, Oswald?” Edward asks, beginning to spin the trap. Oswald laughs a little at this.

“Of course!”

“Since the incident... And-and I never thought that this could happen... I've had the desire to become more than employer-employee.” Edward pauses to let this sink in before emphasizing what he means. “More than friends.”

“I have been feeling the same,” Oswald says, his expression lighting up and he takes hold of Edward’s arms. “I didn't want to mention it, because of all the awfulness about Isabelle…”

“Isabella,” Edward corrects. It interrupts the tone of what he’s trying to do here, but he can’t help himself.

“But... one cannot deny love.” Edward gasps and breaks Oswald’s hold, sending him into a panic. “Wh-What is it? Wh-What's wrong?”

“There... there's been a misunderstanding,” Edward says, putting his hands up between them. He hadn’t expected to need to _use_ his contingency plan for a denial. The reality of what Oswald has just said begins to sink in, making him stutter out an excuse. _Oswald feels the same._ “I was going to... propose that we become partners. Business partners.”

“Partners? Then...”

“Excuse me,” Edward says, rushing for the door.

“Ed, wait!” Oswald calls. _Oswald can’t possibly feel the same, it’s ridiculous._ He continues through and into the hallway, pausing at the doorway. _Oswald only_ thinks _he loves me._

_The question is, how to prove it?_

He pushes the door open.

***

Oswald gets a call at two in the morning from Barbara Kean. He hasn’t slept, agonizing over Edward’s absence. After the book signing he’d disappeared with a cryptic message to Oswald to remember that they are best friends; surely that was his way of letting Oswald down gently.

“Hey, Ozzie.”

“Barbara,” Oswald says evenly.

“A little birdie told me you’ve got a crush on your Chief of Staff, and it made me wonder: what would the King of Gotham capitulate to save the object of his affections?”

“Don’t threaten me,” Oswald warns. More likely than not, Barbara is bluffing. She didn’t have the means to abduct Edward. A rival gang, maybe, but not her. “What’s your point?”

“Well, I thought you’d be more concerned. Maybe you need some proof to know I’m not bluffing, is that it? Say hello, Eddie.”

“Barbara, I am not in the mood for games—“

“ _Oswald_ ,” Edward pleads into the phone, “this isn’t a game. We’re at the Sirens, they have guns—” There’s the sound of an impact and Edward crying out in pain. Oswald nearly snaps the phone in two in his hand, his grip tightening.

“Don’t touch him!” Oswald demands. “What do you want?”

“Come to the Sirens, and come alone.”

“Done,” Oswald says, no hesitation. “When?”

“Now. Don’t delay, we might get bored and start to have some fun without you,” Barbara laughs, hanging up with a click. Oswald is out of the door in a moment, racing to the Sirens. He doesn’t know what she’s going to demand, doesn’t care. He just needs Edward to be safe. It can’t end like this, not with Edward so upset with him for revealing his feelings so soon after the trouble with Isabella. He needs a chance to fix this. He parks and doesn’t feed the meter, storming through the club doors.

“That was fast,” Barbara comments. Edward is tied to a chair, duct-tape over his mouth. His glasses are gone, and Barbara stands behind him with her hands on his shoulders. Butch and Tabitha are posed on either side of them, heavily armed.

“Hands off,” Oswald snaps. Barbara lifts her hands in mock surrender and snickers.

“I had a little chat with your maid,” Barbara says. “She was very helpful. Got a thing for bling, and who can blame her?” Oswald is stoically silent.

“Not so talkative? Fine. Here’s the deal. I’m not negotiating for a place at the table any more. I want your place at the head.”

“Deal,” Oswald says. “Let him go.” Barbara gapes, then her eyes narrow.

“How do I know you’ll follow through?”

“You don’t,” Oswald says.

“That’s kind of a problem,” Barbara says. “Maybe I should hang on to my bargaining chip for a little while.”

“I will personally hand you the reigns of Gotham’s underworld and secure your place as its… queen,” Oswald says. “On the condition you let him go, and grant him complete immunity from every one of your subordinates. Afterwards, you can do whatever you want with me.” Barbara contemplates this.

“Well, that sounds like it would be helpful… but you do realize I’m probably going to have to kill you to really seal the deal, right?”

“That’s fair,” Oswald says. “Do we have a deal?”

“Sure,” Barbara chirps. “Let’s get started. Butch, bring Ed in back while Ozzie and I chat.” Oswald wants to protest this, but she probably won’t free Edward until negotiations are done. He prepares to turn over everything.

***

“Your boyfriend sure is something,” Butch teases. Edward scowls beneath his gag. “I didn’t know Oswald had it in him, are you two even together?” He stares defiantly at the floor.

“Whatever. I just can’t wait for this to be over. Serves you both right for fucking me over, huh?” Edward glares at him. “Alright, maybe I went a little far with the whole Red Hood thing and his mom. But you were squeezing me out. Shoulda quit while I was ahead, since you ended up getting the kind of attention I wouldn’t really want from him… No offense. I just have a girl already. You know, this conversation is feeling a little one sided.” Gunshots ring out in the next room. “What the— hey, don’t go anywhere.” Edward rolls his eyes. Like he _could_. Then again…

He pulls his shoulder painfully far to try and reach into the pocket of his jacket. He’d been knocked unconscious before being dragged here, and surely they would have disarmed him in the meantime, but it’s worth checking—

He still has his knife.

Oh, the utter _imbeciles._ Edward makes short work of his bonds, ripping the tape from his face. He checks the kitchen he’s being held in for any secret caches of firearms, gunshots and the sound of glass shattering coming from the bar. He doesn’t find any guns, but he can’t avoid entering the fray. It’s the only exit, and Oswald is his only hope.

Tabitha is on the ground, Barbara holding a rag to her bleeding stomach. Butch is firing at the bar, where someone is returning fire—

_Isabella?_

Edward wonders where a librarian would learn to shoot, but that’s not important right now. Where is Oswald? He has no hope of reaching the bar without being in Butch’s line of fire, but there’s nowhere else Oswald could be…

Dark hair peeks out over the counter, then Oswald, quickly whipping a shotgun over the counter and firing a blast at Butch, who goes down. Isabella agilely jumps the counter and rushes him, putting a single bullet in his skull. Edward is shocked. She takes aim at Barbara, but doesn’t fire. Meanwhile, Oswald comes around the counter, heading in Edward’s direction. He steps around the corner to be in plain sight.

“Ed!” Oswald cries, rushing towards him and embracing him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Oswald. What happened?”

“I happened,” Isabella says, her gun still pointed at Barbara as she presses on Tabitha’s wound, frantically calling her and trying to keep her cognizant.

“She took Tabitha by surprise, shocking as that sounds,” Oswald says. “I don’t think they were expecting my romantic rival to come to my aid, or yours, for that matter.”

“There’s more to me than meets the eye,” Isabella says, briefly looking up to flash him a wicked grin.

“What do you want to do with her?” Edward asks, nodding towards them.

“I’m going to take everything I allowed her to operate back and make it my own,” Oswald says. “And I’m going to let her take Tabitha to a hospital.”

“Why?” Edward asks. Tabitha had killed his mother, and she’d just kidnapped Edward. Oswald nods solemnly at Butch.

“She knows what it’s like, now,” Oswald says. “We’re even.” Edward isn’t sure he’d be as merciful, but he nods anyways. It’s his call.

Oswald turns to Barbara. “Get lost.” She pulls Tabitha up and arranges her arm around her own shoulder before dragging her lover out, wisely cutting her losses. Isabella keeps her gun trained on them until they leave, her stance that of an expert marksman.

“What did you mean when you said there was more to you than meets the eye,” Edward asks, dying for answers.

“I’m not just a librarian. Actually, I’m not really a librarian at all,” Isabella says. “I’m a clone.” Edward feels faint, and yet also very, very excited. An actual, real live human clone, standing in front of him now. It’s a scientific miracle. He got to second base with a _breakthrough_ in modern biology.

“You’re Kristen’s clone,” Oswald says, his eyes narrowing at her.

“I am,” she confirms. A clone of Edward’s dead girlfriend, which is a little less exciting and a little more troubling.

“Someone sent you,” Edward says, his eyes widening in realization.

“They’re called the Court of Owls,” Isabella says. “I was meant to divert your attention while the Court dealt with Cobblepot, but they saw an opportunity to weaken you further by causing romantic strife.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Edward asks. He’s been a fool. This is Gotham. He personally knows of a man who can imitate anyone’s face. Nothing is ever as it seems here. Taking Isabella at face value had been a mistake, a mistake that could have been costly.

“I’ve recently found out that I was designed to become… how should I put this? Obsolete. The Court always intended for me to die,” Isabella says.

“I’m sure there’s something I can do—” Edward begins, seeing his chance of having a connection to Kristen slipping away.

“There’s nothing. I am going to die. I’ve made my peace with that,” Isabella says.

“Then why help us?” Oswald snaps. “You have no investment in any of this anymore.”

“Oh, but I do,” Isabella says, a sly grin playing on her lips. “I want to find my maker, and I want to burn everything they have to the ground. When I die, the ashes of their empire will be yours to pick through. All I ask for is your aid in making them pay _dearly_ for making me this way.”

“Why would I be interested in that?” Oswald asks, scoffing.

“Because the Court of Owls really runs Gotham, and until they’re gone, this city won’t ever _truly_ be yours. You think you’re King? Its only because they _allow_ you to be.” Oswald’s face contorts with rage at the insinuation. 

“It’s true,” Edward says, touching his shoulder. Oswald relaxes instantly. “I learned about a secret society running Gotham when I was in Arkham. Strange works for them. They have holdings in Wayne Enterprises, and they’re also responsible for the Wayne murders. What else they’ve arranged, I don’t know, but they’ve never even been _close_ to exposure.”

“I don’t care about exposing them,” Isabella says, “I want to _destroy_ them.”

“I think we can find a way to work together,” Oswald says. Edward steps closer to her.

“Did you ever really have feelings for me… or was it all just an act?”

“Just an act,” she says curtly. “I was trained in combat, marksmanship, and precisely who I needed to be and what I needed to do to seduce you. That’s what I was built to do.” Edward deflates. She slaps him on the shoulder in solidarity.

“Don’t feel too bad about it, I’m a pretty good actress. I like to think of it this way: what better way to tear them down than to do it alongside the people they tried to pit you against?”

“I can get behind that,” Oswald chimes in. “Could we have a moment?”

“Oh, right. You guys have got some… things to work through. I’ll get rid of the big guy.” She heads over to Butch, lifting him in a fireman’s carry like he weighs _nothing_ and heading through the door. She kicks it open, traipsing down the hall.

“I knew that whole innocent shtick was put on,” Oswald mutters, watching her go.

“So…” Edward says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Oswald says, nerves suddenly overtaking him now that they’re alone. “I would never have forgiven myself if I allowed something to happen to you. I’m… grateful Isabella was here to intervene.”

“Yeah, me too,” Edward awkwardly replies. “Um, about what you told me the other night—”

“It doesn’t have to change anything,” Oswald quickly interjects. “It’s like I said before, I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Oswald, if I’m being honest, it changes everything.” Oswald’s face falls.

“I understand,” he says.

“I don’t think you do,” Edward says, growing impatient with himself. “I didn’t believe you before, when you said… what you said. I couldn’t. But… you were going to sacrifice _everything_ for me. Your empire… your _life._ ”

“I love you,” Oswald says, filling in the words Edward can’t bring himself to speak. He takes a step closer, cupping Oswald’s face in his hands.

“I believe you,” Edward says. “If only because I couldn’t possibly deny it any longer, not after tonight.” His eyes flicker from Oswald’s eyes to his lips and back again, before gently tilting his head forward and closing his eyes. Oswald feels Edward’s lips against his own and freezes, his eyebrows shooting upwards and his eyes widening. Edward pulls away, eyelashes slowly fluttering open. He finally takes in Oswald’s expression after a moment of giddiness, flushing with mortification once he sees that Oswald’s face is currently frozen in a look of shock.

“Was that too forward of me?” Edward asks, wishing he could vanish in a puff of smoke.

“It was fine,” Oswald says, trying to make his mouth work again. “You… you feel the same?”

“I… think so.” Edward hesitates. Love is a strong word, and not one he’s ready to apply here so quickly. Particularly after his humiliating lapse with Isabella, a wound to his ego only freshly created. “I really, _really_ like you, Oswald.”

Oswald searches his face, then brings a hand up to the back of his neck and pulls him down. Their lips meet in another kiss, one Oswald is prepared for, this time. He presses his mouth to Edward’s and doesn’t let go, the thrill of what he’s doing making his stomach do flips. Oswald finally pulls away, lightly pecking Edward’s lips once more before letting him go.

“Wow,” Edward breathes, and Oswald laughs. He pouts in response.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Oswald assures him, bringing a hand up to trace his thumb over Edward’s pouting bottom lip. Edward unconsciously licks his lips, brushing his tongue over Oswald’s thumb and sending an electric current through him. He hadn’t realized the extent of his physical attraction to Edward; at least, not until now. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“I’m sorry I tricked you,” Edward says. “I didn’t believe you… actually felt that way for me. Isabella suggested that you might and made some… other accusations. I thought I owed it to her to find out for sure before I ended things permanently. Of course, I know it was all just a ploy, now.”

“No harm, no foul,” Oswald says, smiling up at him. “I doubt I ever would have said anything if left to my own devices, since we’re being honest.” Edward chuckles. The door slams open, and Isabella comes through.

“So, I’ve probably got about a month before my planned obsolescence kicks in,” she casually remarks, strolling into the club. “Think we can fuck them up before then?”

“I know we can,” Edward confirms.

“What should we call you?” Oswald asks. “I’m assuming Isabella isn’t your name.”

“It’s not,” she says, “But my real name is just a number, so Isabella is fine. I won’t be using it for long, at any rate.”

“I’ll make sure it’s on your grave,” Oswald remarks, unable to help the certain smug satisfaction he’s experiencing just _imagining_ that he’s eventually going to watch her get put in the ground. Isabella sends a glare his way. Edward heads to one of the booths and motions them both over, oblivious to the exchange.

“Tell us everything,” he directs at Isabella. She gives him a maniacal grin in return and heads for the table.

“By the way,” she says, sliding into the booth across from him as Oswald takes the spot next to him, “I’m sorry about all that creepy shit I pulled. Dressing like your ex, I mean. Wasn’t my idea, but HQ wanted results and you were slipping away. Hope it didn’t fuck you up.”

“Just a little,” Edward admits. He wonders where Isabella learned such foul language, but for now he’ll assume it was from whomever had trained her in combat.

“If we’re all done discussing what’s happened,” Oswald says, “perhaps we could begin focusing on what we’re _about_ to do.”

“We’re gonna burn those motherfuckers down,” Isabella answers with a smirk. Edward and Oswald exchange a look, then smile at one another, leaning in closer to her.

Oswald thinks that maybe, just maybe, they might get along after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's short, but everything I write could be a novel if I had the time. Hopefully you find the ending satisfying. What do you think of my clone/super spy Isabella? She's still pretty fascinating in canon, given her many strange interests, but seeing her effortlessly carry Butch Gilzean's corpse in her strong arms would have made me weak, so I made it happen. As always, I welcome any comments you have for me!


End file.
